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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526844">Master of the Sheets, Oscar Wilde</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime'>makesometime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(except bertie), Airships, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Crew as Family, Everybody Lives, Innuendo, M/M, References Bertie's Sidequest, Sex-Favorable Zolf Smith, Swordfighting, Treasure Hunting, and Smooching, really just canon-typical Oscar Wilde, swashbuckling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:08:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zolf Smith and Oscar Wilde are rival pirate airship captains, on the search for Hannibal's Tomb. </p><p>Who will get there first? What snow-based hijinks will occur? How good would they all look as pirates? (answer: very) </p><p>And what happens when things don't entirely go to plan?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edward Keystone/Tjelvar Stornsnasson, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Master of the Sheets, Oscar Wilde</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the longest one-off I've written since that magical year when I actually managed to do Nanowrimo. And it was all inspired by Wilde's wonderful posing at the end of episode 169 (nice).</p><p>This is entirely AU, everyone lives, excluding Bertie because I say so. As a result, there are no spoilers for the series beyond Bertie's Sidequest. </p><p>I hope you enjoy this because I had a delightful time writing it &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>The Crews</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The Trident</em> </b>
</p><p>Zolf - Captain</p><p>Sasha - First Mate</p><p>Cel - Gunner</p><p>Azu - Ship's Surgeon</p><p>Hamid - Sailing Master</p><p>Tjelvar - Competency</p><p>
  <b> <em>The Illustrious</em> </b>
</p><p>Oscar - Captain</p><p>Barnes - First Mate</p><p>Carter - Gunner/Mischief</p><p>Grizzop - Boatswain/Ship's Surgeon</p><p>Ed - Sailing Master</p><hr/><p>He’s well aware that they’re not the only ship currently on their way to Hannibal's tomb. The breakthrough that Tjelvar made in his research was cut so damn fine that the orc has admitted his near-certainty that Howard bleedin’ Carter must not be far behind. </p><p>Which means, of course. So is Oscar.</p><p>Zolf tightens his grip on the wheel as they begin to crest the foothills of the alps, green fading to snow and any semblance of mild air lost in a swirl of cold. That doesn’t stop Hamid, of course, the halfling strutting around the deck in his frippery with the confidence of someone able to withstand the worst of the elements.</p><p>“What’s up boss?”</p><p>Zolf glances back over his shoulder to find Sasha lurking at the door, comfortably swaddled in a conveniently placed shadow. He hadn’t heard her come in, but that’s really the point.</p><p>“We’re getting closer.”</p><p>“And? What’s the issue?”</p><p>“You know what the issue is.” He scoffs, tugging his jacket a little tighter around himself, fidgeting out his discomfort in needless actions. </p><p>He can hear the smile on her voice when she replies. “You’re worried about seeing him again? C’mon boss. You’ve got his number.”</p><p>Zolf frowns, the image of quite how that number was gotten in the first place flashing to the front of his mind. He flexes his fingers to shift the tingling memory of how Oscar’s skin felt, screws one eye shut at the flash of the man, eyeliner smeared and hair tousled and—.</p><p>“Shit, boss. You’ve got it <em> bad</em> .” Sasha laughs, free and easy and <em> irritatingly perceptive </em>as always. “Don’t worry. Secret’s safe with me.”</p><p>“Ain’t you got something you need to be doing, First Mate?” He scowls when his tone only makes her laugh more, her jaunty little salute a particularly needling irritant. </p><p>“As you say, Captain.”</p><p>Left alone once more, he curses the merry way Oscar’s voice floats into his memory on the brisk alpine air... before he realises it’s not a memory at all, unfamiliar words curling around him like an embrace, full of taunt and mischief:</p><p><em> See you soon, Zolf, I’m sure. I hope I don’t have to submit quite so </em> <b> <em>thoroughly</em> </b> <em> this time. Safe travels! </em></p><p>“Oh.” He says quietly. “Piss.”</p><p>#</p><p>“Captain?”</p><p>Oscar looks up from his book with a beatific smile, pretending it isn’t a bother to be interrupted just as he’s getting to the good bit. “Barnes?”</p><p>“Carter says we’re about two days out from where we’ll be best to dock.” He says, apparently unconcerned by Oscar’s embracing downtime while the rest of the crew work. “Thought you might want to get plannin’. Grizzop claims he sensed another ship half a day out in front.”</p><p>“<em>Wonderful</em>.” Oscar hums, giving a little stretch and casting his eye over the man in front of him. “You asked Grizzop to re-up your endurance, yes? Can’t have you freezing in honour of the aesthetic, now.”</p><p>Barnes rolls his eyes heartily. “You’re one to talk. When’s the last time you went up on deck without tartin’ yourself up?”</p><p>Oscar feigns an outraged gasp, just to see Barnes’ annoyance multiply. “But James, what if we have unexpected guests?”</p><p>“Grizzop’d shoot their knees off.”</p><p>He sighs. “Oh. He rather would, wouldn’t he? Perhaps it’s for the best we don’t…”</p><p>Barnes turns to leave, but hesitates at the last minute and returns to the door. “Your shift in five. Don’t ‘forget’ again, alright?”</p><p>“As if I would.” Oscar gives a great wave of his hand, dismissing the very thought. “Ed gets so very <em> upset </em> when I eat into his time pining for his orc. I’ll be up in a moment, I just have a tiny little message to send.”</p><p>Barnes’ eyes narrow, seeing through the forced informality. “How’d I end up a bit player in your pirate fantasy, Oscar?”</p><p>Oscar grins, pulling on his boots and setting the tops smooth against his thighs. “Maybe you shouldn’t have defected too late to join Zolf’s crew?”</p><p>Barnes flips him off when leaving, which is probably all that Oscar rightly deserves. With a small smile, he stands at the window to his cabin and closes his eyes, murmuring the incantation and moving his hands in a gentle arc.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, he pitches his voice to its most seductive, and opens his eyes.</p><p>“<em>See you soon Zolf…</em>”</p><p>#</p><p>Zolf’s always been a light sleeper, so the brisk knock at his door that evening is enough to stir him out of what is really only a half-slumber. Dreams of previous days recede from his consciousness to be locked away as they deserve, his hands rubbing over his eyes and beard as he opens his mouth to speak.</p><p>“Captain?” Comes Cel’s voice through the door, full to the brim with uncertainty. “Uh. I have something I need to tell you and I don’t really want to worry you but I think, in this case, a little concern is probably warranted.”</p><p>Zolf sighs, pushing up out of his bunk and making sure his modesty is protected. “Come in, Cel.”</p><p>They walk in, barely sparing him a glance before they start to speak again. “Okay so I first noticed we were losing speed about two hours ago, when I should really have been asleep but you know when you know a ship well you can just <em> feel </em> the bad stuff going down before it even really happens.” They take a breath. “There’s something not right with the elementals, Captain. We’re losing altitude and speed.”</p><p>“How not right? Can we fix it?”</p><p>“Maybe.” They say quietly, hesitant in a way he’s not used to. “We’re not far out from our destination, odds are we can get there perfectly fine but it does appear to be getting. Well. Steadily worse.”</p><p>Zolf scrubs a hand over his face again, wishing the emotion settling over him didn’t feel quite so much like resignation. “Right. So. Let’s get down to the engines and see if we can’t figure this out. Because you and I know what the closest source of aid is, and for bloody once we've actually carved out a nice head start.”</p><p>Cel perks up a little. “I mean. We at least know they’d likely actually <em> help </em> given your—.” They trail off at Zolf’s warning glance. “History! With Captain Wilde. You know. That thing that we don’t talk about okay sorry Captain I’ll leave you in peace to get ready and meet you in a few.”</p><p>He watches them go with a blank stare, before heaving a sigh and reaching for his legs. </p><p>“Worst kept bloody secret.”</p><p>#</p><p>“Wotcher.” </p><p>Oscar grins, watching the way Grizzop’s ears flick happily as he climbs down from his vantage point. “What do you see on this fine day?”</p><p>Grizzop reaches out and places his hand on Oscar’s forearm, murmuring something until Oscar feels the biting cold that was just starting to become a nuisance fade away. “There. Can’t have you freezing your pretty chest off.”</p><p>“Oh you <em> do </em> care.” </p><p>“Yeah, whatever, don’t act all surprised.” He scoffs, hitching his weight up to sit on the windowsill beside Oscar’s place at the helm. “You and I know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”</p><p>They sit in silence for a time before Grizzop startles, looking back at him sharply. “Right. The other ship.”</p><p>“<em>The Trident</em>, Grizzop, we can at least show the appropriate respect.” He corrects instinctively, ignoring the calculating look the goblin shoots him. “What of it?”</p><p>“It’s in trouble.” He says. “Dropping steadily and we’re catching up easy, thought at one point it might glide to port but.” Grizzop pauses and shrugs, unconcerned. “Don’t think it will now.”</p><p>It shouldn’t worry him. Zolf has an experienced crew and is more than capable of overcoming a small engineering hiccup. It’s a chance for them to get ahead, to get to Hannibal’s tomb first and get revenge on the MacGuffingham family once and for all. But… going down in the Alps is really a recipe for disaster with no teleportation at hand—.</p><p>“You are <em> so </em> soft.”</p><p>“Excuse you.” Oscar huffs. “I have had many problems in my time but that is decidedly not one of them.”</p><p>“Emotionally soft, you great prat. No interest in any other kind, thank you very much.”</p><p>Oscar pulls his lip between his teeth, glancing out at the clouds. <em> The Trident </em> is too far away for his eyes to see, but he can almost sense it, can imagine the anxiety that each one of the crew must be feeling, out here in the middle of nowhere with a malfunctioning vessel.</p><p>“Well what sort of pirates would we be if we let innocents suffer.”</p><p>“Good ones, Wilde.” Grizzop grumbles. “Since you’ve forgotten, general rules of engagement: 1. Don’t help out rival crews. 2. Steal, plunder and profit. 3. Don’t pine after another Captain you fucked once.”</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind me saying those are very pointed reminders.” Oscar hums.</p><p>“And I know you’re not going to listen to them.”</p><p>“<em>That </em> is why you’re such a valuable member of my crew.” </p><p>Grizzop hops back down from his perch, looking up at him with dull disinterest. “What do you need from me, oh Captain my Captain.”</p><p>“Ask the crew to ready some extra berths. We should have the space.” Oscar says. “Check the hold too, see if we can make some room for any supplies they’ll want to transfer before they have to abandon ship.”</p><p>“Aye aye.” Grizzop says, similarly flat and sarcastic, flinging himself into a comedically overdone bow before sauntering off to the deck.</p><p>Turning his attention back to the clouds ahead, Oscar reaches for the pendant at his chest and searches for <em> The Trident</em>, more out of hope than expectation. There’s not even a speck of light in the ether and he drops his hand with a sigh.</p><p>They’ll get there in time, there’s no doubt. </p><p>He only hopes Zolf isn’t too stubborn to accept his aid.</p><p>#</p><p>“Ho there!”</p><p>Zolf looks up, and keeps looking, the other airship significantly higher than their slowly descending idiot vessel. He knows what he’s going to find, but there’s still a delirious sort of swoop in his gut at the sight of Wilde, standing proud at the port side of <em> The Illustrious, </em> framed in the gangway to show himself off to full effect.</p><p>Tall leather boots, open shirt, tousled hair. Dark lines rimming his eyes, making their blue even brighter.</p><p>He’s certainly not changed.</p><p>Zolf spits and moves closer to the edge of the deck, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. “What d’you want?”</p><p>“Is that any way to respond to a trusted colleague extending the gentle hand of friendship?”</p><p>“Bullshit.” Zolf grinds out, and his tone only makes Wilde smile more. “Come to gloat?”</p><p>“<em>Zolf. </em>” Wilde says, tender voice caressing his name like the hands that caress—. </p><p>Zolf grits his teeth particularly hard. </p><p>Wilde grins as if sensing it. </p><p>“<em>Would </em> I?”</p><p>He can feel the control moving away from him with every second he doesn’t get on top of this conversation, but the very real possibility of slowly and ignominiously crashing his ship into the side of a mountain is making it hard to gain the upper hand.</p><p>“You would and you will. But if you’re willing to get my crew to safety, then you can gloat all you godsdamn like.”</p><p>“Zolf, between you and me, my crew would mutiny if I didn’t offer.” Wilde smiles, looking around at his core group with naked confidence. “Ed would run me through, and not in the way one would quietly wish for.”</p><p>Zolf glances over the assembled bodies around Oscar. He knows each of them well enough, though the goblin less so, which might explain why there’s a nocked arrow pointing at his head. In truth, a fair enough response - they wouldn’t be the first crew to feign difficulties to steal another’s treasure.</p><p>“So. We’re actually doing this?” Zolf asks, looking back over his shoulder at his crew. They all look scared shitless, which is at least honest. </p><p>He is too.</p><p>“It’s my honour to welcome you aboard, Zolf.” Oscar winks and sweeps his arm in invitation.</p><p>Zolf claps his hands and turns his back on WIlde. “Right, you lot. Salvage what you absolutely can’t live without, Azu if you could supervise Cel because we know they’re going to paralyse themself worrying about what to take. Hamid, organise the ranks to get all our supplies over—.” He turns back to Oscar. “You, stop lording it over us and set up the gangplank so we can get everything across.”</p><p>“Yes <em> sir. </em>” Oscar grins and then he’s busy with his own crew which is an absolute blessed bloody relief.</p><p>Tjelvar turns to him as the rest of the crew scatters, his hands resting on his hips. “What are we doing about the treasure, Captain? We can’t trust them not to betray us, surely?”</p><p>Zolf sighs, feeling the morning’s sweat cooling sticky on his back. “Hate to say it. But I think we actually can.”</p><p>“And Carter?” </p><p>“Oh, that little shit is an <em> entirely </em> different matter.” Zolf chuckles, walking with Tjelvar towards the below decks. “Not going to encourage anything, but you’re only a tangential member of this crew, Tjelvar. Do what you need to do.”</p><p>The orc smiles, his scar stretching at the action. He wears it well, and he’s far more suited to this life than he lets himself believe. “As you say, Captain.”</p><p>“If nothing else, you’ll get to see that paladin of yours again.” Zolf says, whistling as he hurries down the staircase and leaves Tjelvar behind.</p><p>Heading to his cabin to finish gathering stuff together with a spring in his step that wasn’t there before, he suddenly thinks he understands the sort of perverse joy the others get out of teasing him about Wilde.</p><p>#</p><p>“Report, Barnes.”</p><p>His First Mate is lounging up against one of the support ropes, doing a good job of looking like he’s not paying attention to every single footstep across the deck. “Everything’s squared away in the hold, Captain, just the crew to transfer and then we can increase altitude in time to clear the next range. We’ve always had plenty of empty space, so I’m not expecting things to be difficult to adjust to.” </p><p>“Good to hear.” Oscar says, using prestidigitation to create a small hand mirror. He glances at his reflection, running a finger under his eye to smooth the line of kohl.</p><p>When he looks back up, Barnes is giving him the most withering of stares. “What? I need to look my best to welcome our guests.”</p><p>“Course you do.” Is all the man says, before wandering off to whisper something (likely discrediting) to Carter. </p><p>Ah, well, it hardly matters now. They’ve done their best for people in need and now <em> The Illustrious </em> will be fitted out with the crew it deserves.</p><p>He is both anticipating and dreading the eventual conversation with Zolf when he proposes merging the crews long-term. They’ve never discussed it before, he’s never wanted to step on any toes. Zolf Smith is a well-respected Captain who runs a very different kind of ship. But he also looks tired, and Oscar knows that sort of weariness. </p><p>Piracy should be <em> fun </em> and with a full complement of crew, well...</p><p>Oscar thinks of the sheer <em> potential </em>and feels a little frisson of excitement up his spine.</p><p>He continues to observe with quiet respect as the crew of <em> The Trident </em> say their goodbyes to their ship, walking up the gangplank one by one and melting into his crew with remarkable ease. He loses track of Sasha quicker than he can really say, watching as Grizzop gravitates towards Azu and Hamid and offers to show them around. Tjelvar is already disappearing around a corner with Ed, which makes him smile, but soon enough he’s watching Zolf slowly cross over the gangplank and he moves closer to him almost by instinct.</p><p>It’s been months, really. More than half a year. But the electric prickle of his skin when he’s close to the dwarf comes back like no time has passed at all. </p><p>He wonders if Zolf feels it too.</p><p>“Are you sure you’ve got everything?”</p><p>Zolf grunts, shoulders a tense line that Oscar’s hands itch with the need to smooth away. “We got all that matters.” His lips form a thin line for a moment. “She wasn’t a bad ship. No more trouble than others. Anywhere else we’d have salvaged her.”</p><p>“It’s natural to mourn her loss. We could hold a little ceremony, if you’d like?”</p><p>Zolf peers at him, one corner of his lips twitching. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you being so <em> nice</em>?”</p><p>Oscar huffs, looking away and hoping the heat he feels in his cheeks isn’t visible. “It’s called <em> respect</em>, Zolf. It doesn’t benefit me to be heartless about your misfortune. Not when...” He watches Zolf’s eyes widen, just a touch, and veers his mouth back on course. “Not right now. I can choose my moments better, I assure you.”</p><p>Zolf makes a non-committal noise and looks back to his ship. With a final wave of his hand, he dismisses the troublesome elementals and the ship’s descent hastens, making Oscar’s stomach lurch in turn as they appear to rocket upwards.</p><p>“So. You gonna give me the 2 copper tour?”</p><p>Oscar beams, back to himself in an instant. “Why certainly. Where would you like to start?”</p><p>Zolf stifles a yawn in the back of his hand, following behind and encouraging Oscar to slow his pace to match. “I’m bloody exhausted, so anywhere with a bed is a good start.” </p><p>“Well, we have options. The Quartermaster’s cabin is free, or you can bed down with the crew if you’d like.” He smirks. “And of course, you’re always welcome in <em> my </em>cabin.”</p><p>“Wilde.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Zolf narrows his eyes. “This ain’t… Look, I appreciate the kindness, but there’s a whole bunch of things we need to talk about before I’m gonna be comfortable dealin’ with.” He gestures at Oscar with a faint smile. “Well, all of this.”</p><p>Oscar feels a little flutter of excitement kindle in his belly. It’s certainly not a dismissal. It’s not a never. </p><p>“I remember how well we <em> collaborate</em>, Captain Smith. I’m sure it’ll be smooth sailing.”</p><p>Zolf snorts, and he thinks he sees a hint of some interest in the dwarf’s eyes. “Not sure, with my crew. Opinionated bastards, the lot of ‘em.”</p><p>Oscar brings them to pause at the turning point between his cabin and the Quartermaster’s with a winning smile. “Well, if you do change your mind, my cabin is over this way.” He points, before leading them further into the ship. “But this is yours, for as long as you need it.”</p><p>Zolf moves past him, shoulder brushing his hip and Oscar near bites clear through his cheek at the sense memory that invokes. The dwarf surveys the room with a critical eye - it’s nothing much, but it’s got a good bed and a desk and a nice view out of a polished porthole. </p><p>“Thank you.” Zolf says, uncommonly serious. “I appreciate everything you’ve done today.”</p><p>Oscar smiles, curving his hand over the door handle and starting to back away. “I would do the same for literally no-one else Zolf.” He fills his mind with the sight of Zolf’s face, both pleased and irritated in equal measure, before he shuts the door.</p><p>“Do sleep well now.”</p><p>#</p><p>There’s something almost comical about the way the crews assemble on deck the next day, staring at each other from opposite sides of the ship with a mixture of suspicion and concern. He stands beside Wilde, ignoring the way the man is smiling at him, and tries to be a reassuring presence for his now shipless crew.</p><p>Oscar’s dressed differently today, frilly dark shirt hanging open further than before, pants made of a tighter soft leather that Zolf knows must have cost more gold than he’s spent in months. </p><p>But then, It’s always been about appearances for Oscar. He’s just usually been far enough away not to think about it.</p><p>Still, important to put on a united front here when raising the awkward fact that if they have any intention of finishing this mission successfully they might as well join forces.</p><p>(Even it means standing next to Captain Tightpants and pretending not to think about how his already particularly nice bum will look if he turns around.)</p><p>Oscar claps his hands together, skillfully calling the meeting to order. “I think if there’s one thing most people here can agree on, it’s that Sir Bertrand MacGuffingham was a colossal prat, and that successfully completing his family’s failed mission now that he is not-so-dearly departed will be quite the point of satisfaction for all involved.”</p><p>Zolf enjoys the wry smiles of his crew as Oscar continues. “Everyone here is the best at what they do, no matter where you’ve been working up til now. If you’d be willing, I’d like to suggest we finish this mission as a combined force, with any future arrangements to be discussed when we’re all safely back on board after.”</p><p>Zolf cuts in quickly, before anyone else can speak. “Won’t deny that we’d have put up a damn good fight if our elementals hadn’t decided to throw their toys out the pram. But there are worse things than losing a lead. One thing I wanna say is that we all know there’s no denying that Tjelvar’s research has been key in any of us getting this far.” Carter splutters, but a swift elbow to the ribs from Barnes puts paid to any actual complaint for now. “So we’ll follow his lead when we get to port.”</p><p>“Any questions?” Oscar asks, hands finding a comfortable resting place on his hips and making him look both casual and confident. He really is good at this shit.</p><p>“Who do we call Captain?” Sasha pipes up, twirling one of her many daggers around and around in her grip.</p><p>“Whoever you damn well want, nothing’s changed on that front.” Zolf shoots back, rolling his eyes at her smirk. “Look, everyone here knows what they’re best at. Some of you even have an extra pair of hands for your duties til we get to port.”</p><p>“Who do <em> you </em> call Captain, Wilde?” Carter pipes up, his face alight with mischief.</p><p>Oscar scoffs even as Zolf is glaring, his hand settling over Zolf’s shoulder with an annoyingly possessive bent. “That is between myself and Captain Smith, and I’ll thank you not to speculate.”</p><p>Zolf watches as Carter leans in to Barnes and whispers something that has the other man nodding along. </p><p>“Betting pool do you think?” Oscar asks loud enough for his ears only.</p><p>“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t.” Zolf replies, equally quiet. He shrugs and it’s only then that he becomes aware that Oscar’s hand is still on his shoulder. </p><p>He should do something about that... shouldn’t he? </p><p>“Might get them bonding.” He says instead, because he’s never been good at doing what he’s supposed to.</p><p>Wilde’s thumb smooths under the neck of his shirt with an ease that should be thoughtless, if it didn’t trace the exact path of one of his tattoos. Zolf shivers before he can think better of it, slipping out from under the man’s touch. “What was that about waiting to discuss future arrangements?”</p><p>Oscar pouts momentarily, though his eyes say that he knows exactly what he’s doing. “No one said we couldn’t start earlier…”</p><p>“Let’s keep to the task at hand.” He says sharply, because it’s apparently either one extreme or the other with him right now. “Better plan how we’re gonna search out the tomb.”</p><p>“Tjelvar, Howard, if you’d be so kind?” Wilde calls, looking away from him so abruptly that it leaves him feeling almost cold. “We have some things to agree.”</p><p>The pair approach with enough reluctance that Zolf wonders if this is all going to come undone before they even really get started, but eventually they deign to follow Oscar inside. Zolf grits his teeth. If they can get everyone off the airship without these two coming to blows, then he’ll count it as a win. With a quiet gesture from him, Sasha appears at his shoulder.</p><p>“What d’you need, Captain?” She asks, walking with him towards Oscar’s quarters. </p><p>“Your input, as always.” He smiles up at her. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it now.”</p><p>“Ah, thought I might get a bit of a rest in.” She replies, all cheeky grin and knowing look. “I’ll make sure I stand between you and Wilde so that you can concentrate, eh?”</p><p>“Watch it.” He grumbles, but his heart isn’t in it, and Sasha can sense that like a shark sensing blood. “Get, Racket. Before I change my mind.”</p><p>The rogue scoots ahead with a dark chuckle and Zolf pauses, steeling himself, before ducking inside after her.</p><p>#</p><p>It’s lucky, Oscar reflects, that they have as many magic users amongst their complement as they do. It would do no good for such a minor hindrance as sub-zero temperatures to get in the way of them all looking like the dashing swashbucklers he knows them to be.</p><p>He watches quietly from the back of the group as Tjelvar instructs them on the correct path to take across the mountains, Grizzop and Hamid and Azu wandering through the crowd and casting quiet protections. It alarms a few of the people around him that Tjelvar is only <em> mostly </em>sure of where the entrance will be, but the orc is charming enough that he plays it off with enough style to belay the worst of everyone’s uncertainty.</p><p>And then they are off, a motley crew if ever he saw one. He walks beside Azu for quite a large chunk of time, the paladin a strikingly pleasant conversationalist and a nice change of pace from his predominantly male crew. She tells him of her home, while frowning at the snow that at points comes up to their knees. </p><p>If nothing else, talking with Azu takes his mind off the fact that Zolf is only a few feet behind. They’ve danced around each other for almost an entire day now and it’s grating on him to see each time the dwarf opens up only to pull away again. The sooner this whole travail is over, the better.</p><p>He’s about to ask Azu about her family when a shout comes up from the front of the group. Looking up, he sees shadows approaching in the trees at a rapid pace… then a solid shape leaps at Ed and knocks him down and everything goes to hell in a moment.</p><p>He counts two bears and a leopard at first, with the hint of other figures lurking in the trees. Moving with only instinct guiding him, Oscar lingers in the back, keeping an eye on their flanks, as everyone else moves into their best position.</p><p>Considering that they have never worked together before, the group settles into an attack formation that makes the mountain’s wildlife seem like a mere nuisance. Ed is back on his feet quickly and leading the charge, illuminated like Regent Street at Christmas.</p><p>With a deep breath and a smile on his face, Oscar begins to sing.</p><p>He watches his magic swirl through the air, curling around his allies and filling them with the inspiration to fight on. Zolf’s glaive stabs true into the gut of one of the bears, twisting and wrenching and bringing it down before the swipe of its claws can land another hit on Ed.</p><p>Oscar glances over to see Sasha wiping her dagger clean on the fur of the bear before spinning and throwing another blade at the leopard engaged with Barnes. He lifts his song and it flies straighter than it has any right to without bardic intervention, lodging itself in the leopard’s neck.</p><p>“Cheers!” Sasha calls, just before a burst of fire some ways off in the distance draws all their attention. </p><p>Sasha and Ed rush towards it, intent on making sure that Hamid's magic has found its mark, but there's no further sounds of fighting. Oscar slowly allows his stance to become more relaxed. </p><p>There’s a pause as they all catch their breath once it becomes clear there's no more enemy creatures in the vicinity until…</p><p>“Uh, everyone? We might have found something!”</p><p>Tjelvar is off in an instant, pushing through knee-high snow to get to where Hamid is waiting, a huge bank of snow melted away by his casting of fireball. Beyond it, Oscar can just make out some stonework - what looks like an elaborately carved frieze and the lintel of a very large stone door.</p><p>“Hamid, do you have the means to clear away some more of this snow?” Tjelvar asks, running his fingertips over the carvings. He grins, looking alive with the thrill of discovery. “I think we’ve found the tomb.”</p><p>“I can do that.” The halfling grins, sweat glinting off his scales as he motions for everyone to move. “If you’d all give me a little room to work with.” </p><p>It is strikingly bizarre to watch the cone of fire leave Hamid’s mouth, even if he logically knew that the sorcerer’s draconic bloodline must give him some special perks. Even a good fifteen feet back the heat of the flames is scorching, making him wince through the supposed protection of Endure Elements.</p><p>The rest of the snow melts away with a haste that can only be magically driven, revealing more of the door, further interesting carvings and what looks like a… hand?</p><p>“Fascinating!” Tjelvar says, patting Hamid’s shoulder as he walks up to the door, affixing a small pair of glasses onto the bridge of his nose. </p><p>Zolf presses past too, coming to stand at Tjelvar’s side. Oscar hurries after him, careful not to slip on the slick stone of the tomb’s approach and begins to try and decipher exactly what he’s seeing on the door when Zolf starts to speak.</p><p>“Here lies Hannibal - Champion of Carthage. Protector of Civilization.” He reads, in such a tone of voice that it almost manages to sound like an insult. “Heir to the Greatest Heroes of the Bygone Age. You who seek to be his heirs must prove yourselves worthy of this lineage.”</p><p>Tjelvar really is very handsome in the face of his success, turning back to look at Ed but unable to keep his eyes off the stone for too long. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me find this.”</p><p>Zolf scoffs. “No bloody good if you can’t get inside.” He says, leaning into Oscar’s side to try and get a better view of the entire door. “Can’t see any keyholes or mechanisms. Did your research indicate the way in?”</p><p>“Well, perhaps we should just be polite.” Oscar says, ignoring the quick swell of discomfort in his chest and leaning into the excitement of uncovering something <em> new</em>, something that no one else has ever seen.</p><p>With a wide smile at the others, he reaches out to shake the stone hand.</p><p>“Oscar! Stop!”</p><p>Zolf’s urgent shout is accompanied by a hand curving around his wrist barely a moment before he slips his palm into the stone grip... and the world goes white.</p><p>#</p><p>The first thing Zolf notices is how very quiet everything sounds, without the near-constant howling of wind outside the tomb. </p><p>The second is the hissing. </p><p>“Zolf.”</p><p>Oscar's voice is little more than a whisper, dull and full of the sort of fear that makes him want to flee. The man grips his shoulder tight, barely moving, steadfastly refusing to look at him. Good. Maybe he realises what a dumb fucking idea that was.</p><p>“Wilde.” He pitches his voice equally low, following Oscar's lead. “What the hell were you thinking.” </p><p>Oscar grips his shoulder tighter, leaning around the cliff face that they’ve materialised beside (a mesh of browns and greens so unlike the Alps) to peer at something, before ducking back. </p><p>“I was, apparently, not thinking.” He says with forced levity, each word ground out through gritted teeth. “And now we have a hydra problem.” </p><p>“A <em> what</em>?”</p><p>“A hydra. You know. Seven headed mythical beast slain by Heracles as part of his labours? That.” </p><p>Zolf rolls his eyes. “I know what a hydra is, Wilde. Why is there one here?”</p><p>He inches forward as Oscar sighs, his eyes glancing around the area they find themselves in. It looks like a cliffside in some miscellaneous Southern European climate, dry and warm and, apparently, featuring random mythical creatures. There’s a vista surrounding them, another mountain range on the horizon a ways off, but it looks almost like it's been painted, as if he could reach out and touch it and it would feel like a canvas.</p><p>“I believe. We are in a sort of… puzzle room?”</p><p>Zolf takes his chance to peek out at the source of the hissing and sees enough green scaly skin to make him regret that choice, moving back quickly and half-colliding with Oscar. “Of <em> course </em> we are.”</p><p>“If the frieze, which I am only just recognising, was an indicator of what awaited us inside, then we likely need to go through the motions of this Heraclean Labour in order to progress to where we actually want to be.”</p><p>Zolf narrows his eyes. “That’s quite a leap. And from what I can remember, requires us to <em> battle a hydra</em>?”</p><p>“There’s a risk involved, I’ll grant you.” Oscar says, through a trembling grin. “But there’s no reason to think we’ll actually be in danger.”</p><p>“Another leap, Wilde.” Zolf purses his lips, flexing his fingers. “I don’t like this.”</p><p>Oscar shakes his head, moving behind him and looking around at the boulders and stones nearby. “Me either. But…” Zolf watches, confused, as he gives a little noise of triumph and reaches under an overhang, pulling back a gleaming golden sword with a flourish befitting only Oscar Wilde, pirate captain. “We have everything we need to do it.”</p><p>“You’re enjoying this.”</p><p>His smile is enigmatic as he swings the sword in his grip, forward and backwards with merely a whisper through the air. It is clearly a well-honed blade, though Zolf doesn’t remember enough of the story to know why it’s made Oscar look so confident. </p><p>“I definitely am.” He says. “I was hoping Athena herself might be here to gift us this, but I suppose she is likely to be busy.”</p><p>“So you’re going to sword fight a hydra and cut off its heads while I burn the stumps?” Zolf asks, scraping the bottom of his memory for how this stupid task went down. “Is that really our plan?”</p><p>“It worked for Heracles and Iolaus!” Oscar nods.</p><p>Zolf rubs a hand over his forehead. “It’s a <em> myth!</em>”</p><p>“And this is merely a recreation.” Oscar puffs up his chest, moving towards the crest of the cliff. “And we are going to win.”</p><p>Zolf hurries over to join him, reaching out to touch his forearm and muttering a quiet oath. “There. That’ll give you a boost and I’ll keep you safe from a distance.”</p><p>Oscar leans down until he’s on the same level, smiling softly at Zolf. “Kiss for luck?”</p><p>“Don’t push it.” </p><p>#</p><p>The battle proceeds with - much to his surprise - relative ease. </p><p>It’s hardly his first sword fight, but he’s a little out of practice. It takes him several attempts to even land a blow, but once he understands the weight of the divine weapon in his hand, he manages to swipe two heads off in a single blow.</p><p>Zolf’s muttered casting is a constant companion to the angered hiss of the hydra, balls of fire flying past his head by scant inches and searing the stumps of the heads before they can think to grow back.</p><p>Oscar leaps backwards to avoid a sharp snap of jaws, the hydra’s fangs instead ripping at his shirtsleeve and narrowly missing his forearm.</p><p>He swipes a riposte, a third head falling to the ground with a thunk, and he toes it away before the caustic blood can seep into his boot.</p><p>Zolf’s blast of fire misses for the first time and he hears a heady Dwarvish curse before another flash of orange chases it, just managing to hit home before more heads can appear in its place. </p><p>It is wearying, his sword arm not used to the effort of constant slashing and parrying, and he nearly stumbles more than once. One head gets right up in his face, snarling and snapping and he just barely ducks out of its way, feeling a warmth of light surround him and tug him to the side.</p><p>Two more heads follow, his body pleasantly suffused with the comforting presence of Zolf’s powers, and these two are cauterised swiftly. Swinging wildly, he manages to mostly remove the sixth head, Zolf’s fire burning it the rest of the way off.</p><p>Which just leaves the seventh head, larger than the rest and if he remembers correctly (which he does), the most deadly of all of them.</p><p>The loss of its other heads leaves the hydra unstable, its body moving in jerky, off-kilter motions that make its attacks harder to predict. Oscar avoids two particularly wild swipes, but it makes contact with the third, its fangs sinking deep into his forearm. He bellows, more out of fear than any pain, adrenaline forcing the reality of the injury out of his mind for a moment. He swings the sword down and cleaves the head with another shout, feeling Zolf rush up beside him and burn the stump as he collapses down onto the rocky ground.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>.” He breathes, staring down at the lifeless snake head clamped around his arm, dizziness making it hard to hold his head up.</p><p>“Oscar! Oscar, show me.” Zolf cries, falling harshly to his knees and reaching out for the compromised arm.</p><p>Oscar watches, mute and starting to shiver, as Zolf prises the jaws open and tosses the head away, whispering incantations that channel light through his fingertips and into the bloody mess of Oscar’s arm. The shock of it starts to fade alongside the wounds, his skin knitting closed and his body feeling warm again after the initial chill of fear.</p><p>“There.” Zolf says, lifting his arm to peer at it closer and then dropping a soft kiss to his skin. “How do you feel?”</p><p>“Remarkably well.” Oscar hums, his body barely feeling like it’s done anything at all. “Given that I haven’t battled with a sword in a decade, I’d say that went rather well indeed.”</p><p>Zolf scowls. “Funny you didn’t disclose that before you strode off to battle a bloody hydra. You are infuriating.”</p><p>Oscar tangles his fingers with Zolf’s before the dwarf can pull away. “Thank you. For keeping me safe.”</p><p>“Didn’t exactly see another option.” Zolf says, slowly getting to his feet and tugging on Oscar’s hand so that he follows. “Now. How do we go about getting out of here.”</p><p>That gives him pause. He had sort of expected the actual slaying to be the hydra to be the impetus for their escape. Perhaps he’s misremembering the story.</p><p>They stand almost awkwardly silent, watching as the hydra starts to disintegrate, sharing confused looks…</p><p>Before with a jolt, they’re gone.</p><p>#</p><p>“What on earth happened to you two?”</p><p>Zolf jerks away from Oscar, looking up to see Azu staring at them with naked concern on her expressive face. Around them now is a non-descript entryway, dark and cold and full of cobwebs. He can see Hamid loitering behind Azu with Cel and Sasha, Barnes and Carter off to one side. Tjelvar is standing at the bottom of a long staircase, with Ed and Grizzop at his side. </p><p>“Is everyone okay? No one hurt?”</p><p>Azu shakes her head, still carefully calculating whether or not they’re injured, eyes fixated on the tattered remains of Oscar’s shirt. “Once you both disappeared, we agreed we should travel further together. Not everyone was a fan of the hold-hands-and-hope approach, but we ended up in a lovely orchard. Tjelvar recognised that we had arrived in the middle of one of the Labours of Heracles.”</p><p>Oscar groans beside him. “Of course you got that one.”</p><p>“Which did you get?” She asks with wide eyes.</p><p>Zolf waves a hand, moving away from the group as a whole. “We can worry about that later. Let’s get what we came for first.”</p><p>As he moves to descend the stairs to speak with Tjelvar and Ed, Grizzop turns back and shouts for Sasha, then points at the wall. “Careful of the arrow traps. They’re old but they’re still, you know, trap-y.”</p><p>Zolf carves a careful path alongside Sasha’s adept footsteps, and then as a group they peer at whatever has stolen Tjelvar’s attention.</p><p>“It looks like a magical trap.” He takes a careful step away so that Zolf can see the faintly glowing silver light coming from the stone wall. “Sasha, I don’t suppose it’s within your area of expertise?”</p><p>“I can have a look.” Sasha replies, tools already in hand.</p><p>It is always a pleasure to watch her work, quick fingers and pinched brow as she familiarises herself with something she can’t have ever seen before, drawing on memories and knowledge formed through years of training. She mutters something to herself and then there’s a faint <em>clunk</em>, and the light fades from the stone.</p><p>“There you go.” She says, so matter of factly that Zolf can’t help but smile. “Few more of those arrow traps up there, but I reckon they’re probably not loaded. Want me to scout ahead?”</p><p>Tjelvar nods. “If you’d be so kind.”</p><p>With a snappy little salute Sasha heads off, carefully sweeping her eyes over the hallway and setting to work on anything that looks suspect. She’s crouching down in the shadows when Wilde appears at his side, drawing his attention away.</p><p>“How are we all?”</p><p>Grizzop opens his mouth to reply when a loud bang and a hearty swear sound from Sasha’s direction. As a group they hurry forward to see her scrabbling away from an open pit, spanning the entire width of the hall.</p><p>“Well.” She says, dusting her hands off. “Nobody’s perfect.”</p><p>#</p><p>Oscar watches as Zolf frets a little over his First Mate, the attention sweetly familiar to what was only just recently directed at him, though with a distinctly more fatherly edge.</p><p>He reckons Sasha would deck Zolf if he tried to kiss her wounds better.</p><p>Oscar feels a dull pain in his leg and looks down to see Grizzop pushing a fist angrily into his thigh. “Things were <em> fine </em> til you turned up!”</p><p>“I hear that a lot.” He grins, earning himself a whole host of rolled eyes. “Looks as though we need to get creative if we’re going to reach the prize. Ideas, anyone?”</p><p>Ed pipes up first. “Looks like we could probably climb - maybe even jump, if you’re feeling spry.”</p><p>“I’d jump that, easy.” Sasha comments, finished with quietly assuring Zolf of her wellbeing. “Feels as though it should really be Tjelvar though. He got us here.”</p><p>A faint sound of distaste comes from up the stairs but Oscar is more distracted by the serious set of Zolf’s face as he moves closer to the pit, catching up a loose stone and raising his hand towards the ceiling. He mutters something, and a jut of stone forms slow and controlled, morphing into a hook and then back on itself to create a solid anchor point for a rope.</p><p>Without commenting, Grizzop moves to stand beside Zolf, and with a quick motion, throws a perfectly aimed grappling hook to catch onto the new projection.</p><p>He turns to Tjelvar, holding out the rope. “All yours.”</p><p>“Zolf, Wilde.” He says, clutching the rope to his chest. “Would you come along?”</p><p>“Of course.” Oscar smiles, and all it takes is a quick gesture for the orc to go ahead and swing manfully over the gap. </p><p>Everyone pauses, watching as he moves ahead with the rope still clutched in his hand and into the room at the end of the hall without getting impaled on anything nasty, though a sharp whistle from one wall results in nothing more than a clatter of broken arrow on the floor at his feet.</p><p>Satisfied, Tjelvar moves back and swings the rope back, Zolf taking his turn next and landing with only a minor misstep. Any comfort that Oscar might have gained from seeing Zolf safely across is lost as he realises that only leaves him.</p><p>Oscar steadies himself, gripping the rope firmly in his hands and backing up to give himself more of an approach than Zolf did. With a mental loop of encouragement reminding him that he just defeated a hydra and a six foot gap is <em> nothing </em>in comparison, Oscar runs and leaps, clearing the pit easily.</p><p>He’s about to let go of the rope, satisfied and relieved in equal measure, when he feels the ground shift beneath his boot, aged stone crumbling away. Zolf, who had thus far been carefully cataloguing his approach, rushes forward the moment Oscar’s face turns from pleased to alarmed.</p><p>“Oh no you don’t!” Zolf shouts, reaching out with surprisingly quick reflexes to tuck his fingers in Oscar’s belt and yank him forward, away from the edge of the pit.</p><p>Oscar stumbles, propelled by the strength of an angry dwarf, and braces his hands on Zolf’s shoulders to slow his inevitable plummet to the ground. The force of his additional weight and the unfortunate pivot of his extra height sends the pair of them toppling backwards, Oscar cupping the back of Zolf’s head with a quick hand to stop him smacking himself unconscious on the stone.</p><p>There is silence for a moment, pain rocketing up Oscar's from his knees at the collision with the floor. (He hopes it's not scuffed his trousers. He likes this pair.) </p><p>Zolf starts laughing first, palms coming to rest on Oscar’s thighs, sprawled as he is over the poor dwarf’s chest. Oscar pulls his hand free and lifts it to artfully rearrange his hair back around his face, fighting his own chuckles. </p><p>He raises an eyebrow. “Well this is pleasantly familiar, but it’s hardly the time for it.”</p><p>“Thought I might be free of you for a minute there.” Zolf coughs, shoving at Oscar’s legs until he begins to climb to his feet. “And what do you mean, <em> pleasant</em>? Forgot what a heavy bugger you are.”</p><p>Zolf takes the hand he offers, scrambling to his feet when Tjelvar wanders back out of the room with the sarcophagus. He’s acting as if he didn’t see anything worthy of note but he’s doing so particularly badly, the tips of his ears a darker hue than the rest of his face.</p><p>“It doesn’t appear to be trapped. There’s a lot of discarded loot around, though, should we fancy a turn as grave robbers.”</p><p>Oscar smirks, squeezing Tjelvar’s shoulder firmly. “I think we’re well past worrying about <em> that</em>.”</p><p>As a group, they approach the sarcophagus and make a silent agreement to push together, bracing their weight and <em> shoving </em> until it begins to slide open to reveal…</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>“What the—.”</p><p>They watch in mute surprise as a piece of paper floats up from the base of the empty tomb, hovering in front of them and seemingly emitting a voice that somehow sounds painfully smug, for being a figment of their combined imaginations.</p><p>Oscar frowns at Zolf in turn as the voice prattles on about artifacts and enchantments and an apparently deep-seated feud. Tjelvar’s head slowly drops as he realises they’ve been beaten here after all, but not by each other.</p><p>“Well.” He says, once the room and their heads are silent once more. “I suppose that’s that.”</p><p>Zolf looks around, moving to the sides of the room and peering at the piles of abandoned items. “Should get Sasha and Carter over here. They’ll be able to tell what’s worth taking.” He smiles at the pair of them, taking this wild goose chase a lot better than Oscar would have anticipated. “Might be able to salvage <em> something</em>.”</p><p>Oscar nods his agreement, trying to figure out whether he’s disappointed or not by this turn of events. “And after, back to the ship before anyone can get frostbite. Sounds like a plan, Captain.”</p><p>Tjelvar squares his shoulders, and if he notices the air in the room change as Zolf shoots an unamused glare Oscar’s way, he doesn’t mention it. “Don’t tell Carter about Homer’s tomb and I’ll make sure you get a very nice cut of whatever we eventually find.”</p><p>Oscar holds out his hand to shake on that without hesitation. “You have yourself a deal, Mr Stornsnasson.”</p><p>#</p><p>The rum sits warm in Zolf’s belly as he watches the crews mix and celebrate under the star-filled sky, merry despite their relatively modest success. </p><p>It’s been more than a while since any of them have been able to blow off steam like this. Tjelvar hired him months ago, and they’ve been in a race to find the tomb ever since, one step ahead of Carter and his ilk the entire way.</p><p>That the orc and the man are now laughing loudly over a shared game of cards is an oddly satisfying outcome.</p><p>Across the way, someone has set up a rough target range, with the usual suspects all attempting to outdo each other with feats of daring and athletics that would be worrying enough even if he didn’t know how much booze they’ve put away in the hours since they got back onboard.</p><p>“You’re allowed to relax, you know.”</p><p>Zolf turns his head, finds Wilde sidling up to him all loose and relaxed looking, and damn handsome with it. His cup is full with rum but he’s clearly put some away already. It’s nice to see him this way, with no unnecessary airs and graces.</p><p>“I’d say the same to you, but looks like you’re already there.”</p><p>“Success, no matter how slight, is cause for celebration.”</p><p>Zolf smiles. “Is it really success when the tomb was looted long before we got there?”</p><p>“Well.” Oscar says, pausing for a very deep pull of rum. “That depends on your definition. The crews have bonded, everyone’s alive and Tjelvar and Carter have a relic to argue over. Assuming it gets to where it needs to go, we’ll get paid and then it’s onto Homer's tomb with a ship full of competent associates.”</p><p>It’s an image that’s almost as intoxicating as the booze - moving forward as one crew, no more trying to stay one step ahead, no more rushing and chasing and second-guessing. Working side-by-side with Oscar, instead of looking over his shoulder for the man. A chance to slow down, take a step back and—.</p><p>“There you go again.” Oscar murmurs, voice all low and fond, damn him. “Lost in your own head.”</p><p>“Give me something more interesting to do and I’ll stop.” He shoots back.</p><p>Oscar’s eyes flash with interest and fire both, dropping his mug away from his lips as he battles a smirk. “I can do that, Zolf.”</p><p>He feels himself leaning in instinctively and stops himself before he gets too close. “Not here.”</p><p>Oscar’s eyes are beautiful anyway, but filled with a mixture of good humour and hunger they make Zolf feel all hot. “They all know, Zolf.”</p><p>With a smirk, he reaches out and tugs on Oscar’s hand, hopping from his perch with impressive dexterity. “Doesn’t mean they get to see it.”</p><p>Cel catcalls them first, Sasha joining in with the type of piercing wolf-whistle that one can only learn in Other London. He feels Oscar’s fingers tighten around his, tries to pretend that his face isn’t burning up from anything but windchill and alcohol as the man turns and hollers something (likely very crass) in Gaelic.</p><p>“Thought it was bad before.” He mutters once they’re below decks.</p><p>If he stopped to think about it, he’d realise his feet are directing him to Wilde’s cabin. As it is, with the man so close and so warm and so handsome, it’s more of an exercise in finding their closest private space than anything that requires higher brain function. </p><p>Oscar gives a faint laugh, fae and light, catching his toe briefly on a loose floorboard. “It’ll get boring fast.” He says, then snickers, running his fingers over the inside of Zolf’s wrist. “For them, not us, I <em> assure </em> you.”</p><p>“Such pretty promises.” Zolf says, voice set low because he knows what it does to the man and the time for pretense has long passed.</p><p>“Oh, but you can trust me.” Oscar moves past him towards the door. “I never lie about a good time.”</p><p>He’s not sure who makes the first move, but there’s barely a beat before they are tumbling through the door together, Oscar flailing one arm behind to shut it as he fights to keep their lips together. Zolf laughs into the kiss, messy and hungry, feeling a relief come over him that entirely eclipses the emotions of the previous day.</p><p>This is it. This is where he’s meant to be. </p><p>Oscar moves with a nimble grace that shouldn’t be possible even from someone sober, urging Zolf down to sit on the bed and following after, leaning in and over him and smirking. “I knew I’d get you here eventually.”</p><p>Zolf places a hand very carefully against Oscar’s chest, palm to skin. And shoves, hard, so that the man falls backwards into his ridiculous mound of pillows with a grunt.</p><p>“Did you now?”</p><p>“You <em> are </em>here, are you not?” Oscar hums, trailing a hand across his stomach to rest curving over his belt, fingers moving back and forth in a slow rhythm. “Or is this a figment of my cruel imagination?”</p><p>Zolf smiles along with him, ignoring the obvious invitation and shifting up the bed, legs issuing faint whirrs as he moves on his knees. Oscar loops an arm around his waist, urging him closer and groaning at the bite of Zolf’s nails against his stomach.</p><p>It becomes impossible to think of any reasons not to kiss Oscar again when he looks so blissful and recumbent already, lips shining and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed with a pink heat. So he does, leaning in and teasing the most wonderful sounds out of the man, each gasp and shift a victory, every moan a thing to catalogue and chase more of. They kiss until Zolf’s knees are aching and his skin feels too tight to contain the sheer <em> pleasure </em> of this moment.</p><p>Oscar, he remembers, makes the most wonderful noises when you tangle fingers in his hair, tugging gently to light up his scalp with sensation. He does so, swallowing Oscar's whine and moving closer, uncaring that it leaves him half-sprawled over the man's lap. </p><p>“You can undo me so completely.” Oscar murmurs, breaking for a gasped inhale and dragging his lips to the shell of Zolf's ear. “How am I ever supposed to let you go again?”</p><p>Zolf shivers through the man's teeth tugging at his earlobe, shifting his weight until he settles more firmly in place astride Oscar’s lap. “Who said you had to?”</p><p>Oscar makes a noise that sounds almost pained, drawing back and leaning in for another kiss, his fingers now flexing over Zolf's hips. “You'll stay? Zolf, please I would hate for you to feel oblig—.”</p><p>Zolf kisses him, quickly unfastening his shirt and tugging it up to get to all of his torso. Oscar pulls away just before being strangled by material, caught between laughing and groaning while lifting the shirt over his head. </p><p>“You’re not an obligation.” Zolf says, setting his hand very low on Oscar’s stomach and fighting not to give in to the hinting motions of the man’s hips. “Need you to know that.”</p><p>The look he receives in return is more tender then the moment should allow. “Alright, Zolf.”</p><p>Zolf has the joy of watching Oscar’s eyes fall closed when he moves his hand down further, the open fall of the man's mouth, the delightful and easy <em> submission</em>. </p><p>With no other care in the world, he starts to refamiliarise himself with quite how good it feels to undo Oscar Wilde. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Random side note: Writing this I was like, wouldn't it be funny if Oscar could needle Zolf through the medium of air-based whisperings and then I found <a href="https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/w/whispering-wind">this spell</a> and I felt like a genius.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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